


Comfort in Sound

by Vagabond



Series: The Many Adventures of Dr. Frederick Chilton [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dealing with PTSD, Descriptions of Blood, Flashbacks, Hand Job, I have a psychology degree and I am using it to write porn, M/M, all aboard the smut train, chillywilly, frederick chilton is adorable, questionable interpretation of behaviorism techniques
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick is ready to take his life back, and that starts with the house he's avoided. Will is ready to help in a slightly unorthodox manner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort in Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Ivan Pavlov discovered classical conditioning by chance. He realized when you paired a natural response to something (such as salivation in response to food) that was completely random, eventually you could get the natural response to occur when the random event occurred. So a dog salivates whenever it smells food. When given food, the scientist rings a bell. Eventually just ringing the bell makes the dog salivate. 
> 
> In the same way, pair a kitchen with dead bodies which invoke a fear response, you can take away the dead bodies and the kitchen still invokes the same fear response. Essentially PTSD is caused by a series of these associations which in turn makes something completely harmless trigger a fear response which triggers flashbacks. Pair the kitchen with happy feelings of sex instead of fear and you eliminate the fear response. Suddenly kitchen = sexy times. 
> 
> IT IS SCIENCE and a good excuse to write porn. Can't stop won't stop.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Frederick?” Will asked as they stood on the front step of Frederick’s house. It had been nearly a month since he’d bothered to return home. He hadn't been back since he’d taken up residence at Will’s as their relationship grew. However, he needed more clothes and a few other items and knew he couldn’t avoid his home forever. 

Still, he hesitated on the front porch and tried to shove away the memories of the last time he’d tried to step into his kitchen. He glanced at Will who was regarding him with a certain measure of concern and then glanced back at the door. Of course he was sure he wanted to do it. Hannibal Lecter was locked up and there were no other killers out to get him that he was aware of. There would be nothing in the house and how else was he supposed to reclaim it? It had gone empty long enough. 

So he huffed a bit, shoved the key in the lock, and allowed the front door to swing open. Will motioned for Frederick to step inside and he did, with a new sense of determination and grounded-ness that being near Will provided. He took a few steps inside after he removed the key from the lock and turned to watch Will close the door. It clicked shut and he felt a sense of dread come over him. 

“Leave the door open,” he snapped irritably and then fidgeted and glanced down at the ground when he realized how angry he sounded, “please, Will.” Of course Will understood. He hadn’t even flinched when Frederick snapped and he opened the door without protest. Then Will stepped up close to him and took his hand, lacing their fingers together as he squeezed gently.

It was all he needed as he took a few steps toward the entryway to the kitchen. He stopped right before stepping in and closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. As he walked himself through some breathing techniques he felt Will’s lips brush against his temple, then down against his cheek, trailing ever downward until Will stopped at his pulse. Frederick’s breath hitched when Will lapped warmly at his rapidly beating heart and then bit down gently, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to send a jolt of heat straight down to his groin. 

Frederick made a noise and blushed as he squeezed Will’s hand, eyes finally sliding open to find the other man peering at him. He made a strangled noise of surprise when he was shoved against the door frame right outside of his kitchen which turned into a pleased moan when Will’s lips pressed to his. Somehow, Will chased away all the dread and anxiety and left Frederick with a sense of warmth and arousal. 

“Will,” he mumbled as he broke the kiss only to press his lips to Will’s stubbled jaw, “what are you doing?”

“Behaviorism, Frederick,” Will replied and Frederick swallowed hard as the other man rested his hand against the side of his face, hooked his thumb under his chin, and tilted his head back to reveal his throat, “positive associations. We can make new memories to cover the old ones.” 

Frederick shut his eyes as Will trailed gentle kisses down his throat, his thumb stroking at the underside of his chin where it pressed into his skin. Will’s other hand was still holding his, their fingers entwined. He wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing, but Will had a point psychologically. Though their situation felt like a whole lot more than a psychological concept, especially as Will bit down in the space where his throat meets his collar bone. It drew a gasp out of Frederick who squirmed under the attention as his lover sucked a mark into his skin. Then all of a sudden the other man’s presence was gone, his hand released, and he opened his eyes again worried everything had been a dream. 

It hadn’t, because Will was still standing in front of him, watching him, waiting for him to make the next move. Frederick needed a moment to collect his thoughts and try to reign in his growing arousal. There was something about the other man that wrecked him. Something beautiful in the way Will attended to him and bestowed upon him the gift of physical interaction in a way no one else had. Some days he felt embarrassed or somehow a lesser man for it, but most days he just wanted more. He let out a shaky breath and turned his gaze to the kitchen. 

His cane was on the floor just a couple feet ahead of him where he’d had his panic attack months ago. Frederick stared at it, accepted it as the challenge it was, and with the cane as his focal point he took a few steps into the kitchen. It was easier to do it with Will only a few paces behind him, the man close enough to feel his body heat but not close enough to touch. With a deep breath, Frederick reached down and retrieved his cane and smiled a bit to himself as he set it against the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. It was a small victory, but still a victory. He glanced at Will who watched him calmly and he tried to internalize the utter sense of calm radiating off of his lover. 

When he took his eyes off of Will he allowed his gaze to sweep the kitchen and took another step forward. He walked over to the island and ran his fingertips over the top of it. It was so pristine and white again, such a contrast from the blood that had been splattered all over it at one point. His hand trailed over to touch where the disemboweled FBI agent had sat and his gaze traveled over to the dining room table where the other one had been. Though on the table the blood was back and when he looked at his hand it was covered in blood too and he inhaled sharply. 

“No, no.” He took a step back and felt his stomach drop as his kitchen was once more transformed into the grisly crime scene Hannibal Lecter had left for him. Frederick could smell the blood, feel its heat against his hands, and the scar on his cheek throbbed. As he took another step back he hit a solid wall of warmth and panicked as he turned because his mind told him it was Hannibal back to kill him, back to finish the job. 

Instead he found Will watching him, felt the other man grab his hands and pin them back against the island, and swallowed hard when his lover stepped into his space and held him there. 

“There is blood, Will,” he whispered and the moment he said the words he knew they were wrong. 

“Frederick,” Will said his name firmly, still holding his hands down against the island, “there is no blood. Say it.” 

“T-there is no blood,” and when he looked over his shoulder at the dining room table it was bare and clean and everything smelled like citrus instead of copper. 

“Will,” he breathed and struggled against the other man’s grip. Will relented and released his hands and Frederick put his arms around the younger man’s waist and pressed against him, resting his unscarred cheek against Will’s shoulder. Will rested his cheek against the top of Frederick’s head and they stood like that, with Will’s hands resting firmly on Frederick’s hips as his heart beat slowed. 

“What are you thinking?” Will asked and he didn’t sound like he was trying to mock Frederick or make fun of the situation. It sounded like he genuinely wanted to know what he was thinking and that was a weird feeling. Frederick mulled over the question as he slid his hands under Will’s shirt and allowed his fingers to splay out against the other man’s lower back. 

“About how bizarre this all is. About how ridiculous it is that I cannot stand to be in my own kitchen. I’m thinking about how unreal it is that you’re here touching me and not completely repulsed by my stupidity and weakness.” Frederick laughed at his own self deprecation and tilted his head to press his forehead against Will’s shoulder. 

“I’m going to tell you this until it gets through your thick skull, Frederick. You’re not as bad as you seem to think you are.” Will insisted as he worked his fingers through Frederick’s hair affectionately before he rested his hand against the back of his neck. “Will you let me do something?” He asked and Frederick found the cryptic question sort of strange. 

“It depends on what that something is,” Frederick answered hesitantly and lifted his head to look at Will. 

“You just have to trust me.” Will replied and stroked the short hairs on the back of Frederick’s neck idly. 

“I trust you.” Frederick murmured and glanced away shyly. 

“Good.” Will’s breath was hot against his ear and the other man pushed him back gently so that his lower back was resting against the edge of the kitchen island. The other man stepped into his space immediately and grabbed his hands, guiding them to rest on the edge of the island as well. “Keep your hands here, Frederick. Don’t move them. If you need to hold onto something, grip the edge here.” 

“Okay?” Frederick’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Will, but then his eyes widened when the other man’s hands went to the fly of his pants. “Will, what…” he trailed off as Will’s lips pressed to his pulse and sucked while his hands worked to free Frederick of his pants and underwear. 

“Jesus,” his fingers curled against the edge of the island as Will’s fingers wrapped around his length and stroked him slowly, “Will, here? Shit.” Frederick tilted his head back and closed his eyes as Will’s mouth roamed over the expanse of his neck. Then he felt the top buttons of his shirt being undone with Will’s free hand as the man’s mouth worked across the revealed skin. 

“Behaviorism, Frederick, remember?” Will mumbled against his skin and Frederick realized he couldn’t think about his anxiety or the dead bodies that had once been in the kitchen when Will was jerking him off and leaving marks along his collarbone. No, there was nothing else in the world that could draw his attention away from what his lover was doing. 

Soon, his entire shirt had been unbuttoned and Will dipped his head down to continue exploring the expanse of Frederick’s now bared chest. His hand didn’t relent and kept up its marvelously slow pace as Frederick grew hard. With a whimper he bucked into it, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to use his hands to touch Will in return. Will’s free hand moved up to rest against his throat as he pressed against it lightly, not with any intention of cutting off air, but just to keep Frederick’s head tilted back so that he was completely exposed to Will’s wandering mouth. 

Frederick didn’t want to admit that he was getting off on the control Will had taken away from him. 

He was hard at that point, precum beading at the tip of his cock which certainly didn’t go unnoticed by his lover. Will gathered it up on his thumb and spread it along the underside of Frederick’s arousal, drawing a sharp gasp followed by a needy whimper. Everything was Will’s mouth and hand in that moment as Frederick allowed himself to get lost in the sensation. They’d managed to find a bit of a rhythm as he pushed his hips forward to thrust into Will’s strokes and the other man allowed it and removed his hand from Frederick’s throat though he kept his head tilted back all the same. 

Apparently the move pleased Will because the next thing he knew the grip on his cock was firmer and he was thrusting into the tightness with soft gasps and moans that echoed throughout the kitchen. In the back of his mind he realized the front door was still open and with the acoustics in his house, odds were his moans would carry out into the street. He tried to choke them down, to quiet his gasping, but Will’s hand stopped when he did. 

“I want to hear you, Frederick,” Will whispered into his ear, “I want everyone to hear you. I want you to remember nothing else about this kitchen except the time I jerked you off for the entire neighborhood to hear.”

Then he started stroking Frederick, faster this time, and he let go of his inhibitions and allowed pleas and moans to fall from his lips. He was handsomely rewarded as Will pressed a kiss to his throat and used his free hand to pinch at a hard nipple. His hips bucked forward and he cried out in surprise and then whimpered in pleasure as Will’s thumb and finger worked the nipple, rolled it, and send jolts of pleasure coursing straight down to his cock. 

“Will, please,” Frederick whimpered as he felt himself coming completely undone, flexing his hands, wanting to touch and hold onto Will, before he forced himself to once again hold onto the edge of the island. 

“Please what, Frederick?” Will asked and sounded so downright casual about it, Frederick wanted to scream. 

“Will,” he growled and then groaned as Will’s hand slowed and stopped at the base of his cock. 

“Please what?” Will repeated gently and when Frederick looked at him through half open eyes he saw the other man was smiling. 

“Please let me cum,” Frederick answered, his voice trembling as he shifted his hips to try and encourage Will’s hand to move again, “please, god Will, please let me cum.” Will’s hand began moving over him again and he felt himself getting close to release, heat and tension pooling in his lower back and stomach as he pushed his hips into the hand on his cock. His precum made the slide of Will’s hand slicker and the sound of skin on skin aroused him all the more as it filled the air around them. 

“W-Will, oh, please. Please.” He was practically sobbing now as he felt Will’s mouth against his jaw and heard the other man whispering softly against his skin. 

“Let go, Frederick,” Will was murmuring, “cum for me, scream for everyone to hear.”

With a final thrust into Will’s hand, Frederick’s body seized up as his orgasm tore through him. 

“Oh, fuck!” His back arched away from the kitchen island as he came in powerful spurts all over Will’s hand and the other man’s shirt front. Frederick’s moans and whimpers echoed off of the stainless steel appliances as he came down from the high of it all. He slumped forward, hands resting against Will’s sides where his fingers curled in the fabric of the other man’s shirt as he held onto him. Frederick buried his face in Will’s shoulder, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks from tears that had been drawn out of him. 

Will stroked him until he was sensitive and fidgeting under the attention, gasping and groaning before he bit down on his lover’s shoulder through his shirt when he couldn’t handle the touch anymore. Finally, Will relented and released him, wrapping one arm around his waist to pull him close. Frederick settled against him, trying to catch his breath, his legs trembling from exertion. 

“What are you thinking about now?” Will asked, though this time his voice was light and teasing and Frederick felt him kiss his temple affectionately. 

“I’m thinking about how I’m going to drag you up to the shower and suck you off,” Frederick mumbled into Will’s shirt and reveled in the way he made the other man laugh. 

They stood together for what seemed like an eternity and Frederick realized, when he finally lifted his head and looked around the room, that there were no longer any dead FBI agents littering his kitchen. It was just his kitchen now, his kitchen with cum on the floor and Will standing with him and all of the appliances he’d picked by hand. It was his kitchen, with the paint job he’d supervised and all of the pots and pans his mother had insisted he buy because he was a successful doctor and should have nice cookware in order to cook meals and impress women. 

It was his kitchen again, and maybe someday soon he’d cook a meal for Will and they’d make even more memories in it. 

For the moment, however, he had other rooms to christen and he tucked himself back into his pants, grabbed his lover’s hand, and yanked him toward the stairs. 

He had more important things to do than live in old memories. 

He had Will.


End file.
